Ae Fond Kiss
by MagpieDreamer
Summary: Song fic Directly after the events of Ouroborus, Harper wonders about Trance and... um... Trance. (Reviews much appreciated, no flamers please, this is my first attempt at a 'Drom fic!)


Ae Fond Kiss  
  
Summary: no, I haven't spelt the title wrong, it is 'ae fond kiss', not 'a fond kiss'. I'll go into my reasons later. In the aftermath of 'ouroborus', Harper wonders what Trance meant when she kissed him.  
  
Authors note: This fic is based on a song called 'ae fond kiss'. I'm Scottish, (and proud of it), and love the old, and sometimes new, folk music. I'm especially fond of Robbie Burns (very, very, very famous Scottish poet, has his own 'Burns night' celebrated over here, to give you an idea of how famous the guy is). Anyway, Ae Fond Kiss seemed to fit well to what Harper might think Trance might have been thinking when she kissed Harper on the cheek. The song is in old Scots, so some of the words might not make sense. I'll put translations at the end of the fic of the words that are hard to understand (or at least, the ones I couldn't understand without having to ask someone what they meant at the time.) Anyway, if you ever get a chance to hear it, it's a beautiful song. Now, where was I.? Oh yeah, the fic!  
  
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Did she know? That same, quiet question kept repeating itself over and over in Harper's brain as he sat in the medical bay, gingerly touching his stomach to see if it were any the worse for having the magog eggs extracted. Had Trance known what she was doing when she planted that kiss on his cheek? She had kissed him then walked away, without looking back. It was the last time he had seen her. Maybe the last time he would ever see her. Well, the purple her.  
  
Ae fond kiss and then we sever; Ae fareweel, alas, forever, Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.  
  
Okay, so he supposed she wasn't really gone. Just changed. Older. But he still wasn't sure that he liked it. He hadn't gotten all the details of how the swap had come about from Beka, and until he did he was going to need serious convincing it had been necessary. Yet at the same time he had to be grateful to this new Trance. She'd saved his life when he himself had been ready to give it up. And, looking at the pale skin stretched across his torso, he could see no external damage signs. Only a nasty cramp that Rommie had told him should abate in a few hours. He was alive. He was lucky. Really, he should be grateful. Really, he should be happy. But he wasn't.  
  
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me; Dark despair around benights me.  
  
What he wanted was Trance back. His Trance back. Even if it meant dyeing a gory death at the teeth of baby magog. At least then she'd still be here, to hold his hand in his last moments. He wished she were here now, fussing around the med. bay, shifting things from place to place, chattering away happily, or murmuring to a plant as she tended to it. Attentive and kind, checking up on him, insisting he stay in bed, bringing him a sparky cola and his favourite pillow, sitting on his bed and talking him out of whatever mood he was in, or listening attentativly as he poured out whatever frustrations had been nagging at him at the time.  
  
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Nothing can resist my Nancy, For to see her was to love her, Love but her and love forever.  
  
But she was gone, leaving only a soft imprint of herself, where he could still feel her. A warm, moist touch to his cheek, where, if he closed his eyes, he could still reconstruct that moment in time, breath on his face, a smile, warmth of a body close against his, if only for a second, the brief pressure of lips on his skin, then gone, hurrying away to whatever she had seen coming. Had she known that was their last contact? Had she deliberately constructed it so that it was the best and most dear to his heart of all? Or was it as impulsive as it had seemed? A 'my-brave-little- soldier-I'm-proud-of-you', kiss of affection. For luck. For love.  
  
Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Nor never met- nor never parted, We would never have been sae broken-hearted.  
  
Maybe it would be better not to have known her at all. If only to loose this dull ache between his ribs and stomach, that he was sure had nothing to do with the magog eggs that had until recently been lodged near by. Then he shook his head. No. He wouldn't take back the times he had known her. All those midnight whispered conversations on the Eureka Maru while Beka and Rev slept, sitting on his bunk or hers, either end, munching their way through packets of crisps, marshmallows and bottles of whatever alcoholic substance they had been able to unearth. He felt a slight smile threatening to pull itself over his lips, as he remembered the night they had both gotten roaring drunk and ended up dancing round the Maru singing at the tops of their lungs, and informing a non-too-pleased Beka, when she had grabbed each by the collar and demanded to know what the hell they thought they were doing at two in the morning, that they were both baby turnips who had learned to sing like birds and were now off to learn how to fly. Actually, he remembered very little of the actual night, apart from the bits before they had gotten into the really delusional stage of drunkenness that the Than's answer to beer induced, but he remembered the awful hangover the next morning. He knew the tale because Beka had recounted it to them as he was vomiting out of the air lock. Trance, apart from a mild head ache, seemed to have been left relatively untouched by the experience.  
  
Fare thee weel, my first and fairest, Fare thee weel my best and dearest, Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure.  
  
Harper was snatched suddenly out of his memories by the sound of the med. bay doors opening. It was Trance. Golden Trance. She had changed out of the clothes in which he had first met her, and was wearing something less obviously designed for killing people in. She was carrying bonsai tree, it's pot cracked, apparently having been dropped onto a hard floor. Under one arm she had tucked his old pillow, and with her free hand she was holding a can of cola.  
  
"I'm guessing you'll want these." She said, pausing to look at him, then, placing the bonsai tree on a table, handed him his pillow. "I brought you a cola, too. Thought it'd make you feel better." She put the can beside him, then retreated quietly, to a corner, with her bonsai tree. She perched on top of a cabinet, in exactly the same way Trance - she, Harper corrected himself - used to, quietly tending the damaged plant. He hugged the pillow to him, as if for protection against some on-coming evil. When none came, he reached for his sparky cola and opened it. The sudden crack and hiss sounded like a roar of thunder in the suddenly deafening silence. He took a sip and wiped his lips, then touched his cheek where she had kissed him, suddenly wondering whether she had any memory of kissing him. He remembered again. Breath, smile, kiss, warmth, gone. An imprint. An echo of herself. But that wasn't all Trance had left for him. Because she hadn't really left at all.  
  
"Trance?" He started, a little awkwardly. She looked up from her plant, delicate fingers curling gently round a branch. He took another quick gulp of cola, swallowed, licked his lips, then, "thanks."  
  
She only smiled, like she had always done. "That's okay, Harper."  
  
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever, Ae fareweel, alas, forever, Deep in heart wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.  
  
"Not gone at all, But journeyed apart, Thine spirit safe, Within my heart." - The Bonnie Broucket Bairn  
  
(ae - one, fareweel - farewell, nae - no, benights - shrouds in darkness sae - so, weel - well, ilka - every) 


End file.
